I pulled up to the tattoo parlor and told them about my idea. The artist was a large, burly man with several tattoos of his own. He drew up a sketch and after bearing my shoulder, set about doing his work. The drinks I had earlier might have dulled my sense of reason, but not my sense of pain. My arm felt as if it were on fire, the buzz of the gun was deafening in my ears, but for once, I couldn’t hear her gasps. I almost stopped him in the middle of his work, but I stuck it out, I had to do this. I would be her memorial, the tattoo her monument, the design an outward expression of my inward pain. I inspected his work, the design was intricate, a ring of forget-me-nots encircling a penny. The forget –me-nots were her favorite flower, every year, her summer gardens were filled with them. The penny was to remind me that she was watching over me and that I was never alone. I chose to tattoo it on my back to remind me to leave the past behind, the penny was heads up, looking forward to. Had been treating Charlie as though he were some dumb cowpoke out of a bad western. He was just "displaced." He was nearly 20,000 kilometers from 'home' and in a totally alien culture. As though I'd been dropped in the middle of Saskatchewan or ... in fact ... West Texas."I'm sorry, Charlie. I mean it." I understand, Gordy. An' you kids bin real good to me. I'd a never found my way through them desk jockeys in Alice Springs. Likely, I'd be on my way home. Or already there. Or in jail waitin' to be shipped off." But I was bad, too, Charlie," Weena added. "I pushed Reynolds; and I told you what to do; and I really tortured Henderson." All true. But you did what needed getting' done. An' now we're here. An' the cattle are here. So, we oughta be gettin'." He rode a few steps towards Maddy. "Right, girl?"Weena took my hand, leaning over. "What do you think of me?" she asked."You're a strong, aggressive, driven, beautiful, gentle, loving, and intelligent woman. I got it all in one.
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